


All the little things

by Little_Firestar84



Category: Instinct (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic, Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-04-22 20:03:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14316138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Firestar84/pseuds/Little_Firestar84
Summary: A serires of one-shots, drabbles and flash-fics, following the characters from the CBS series "Instinct".4. Andy and Lizzie makes some fun of his previous occupation after he saves her... and her savings.





	1. Change

“So, what is this surprise? Will I like it?” Dylan trusted Andy with his own life. For him, he had made one of the hardest choices of his life- leaving his life behind – and had embraced a new future. That was why he was allowing his husband – he had _an husband_! It was still so strange, and new! – to walk him somewhere _blindfolded_. 

“I think you’ll get crazy!” Andy said, sounding like a child. They came to a stop, and from the sounds of it, Dylan guessed Andy had opened a door – an old one. They took a few other steps, leaving the outside and entering in a chilly, quiet and dusty location, and it was in that moment that Andy took Dylan’s blindfold off. 

“Ta-da!” Andy exclaimed, his arms open wide, as Dylan took in the place – it seemed an old bar, abandoned from what felt like a lifetime. 

“Well, that…” Dylan looked around, biting her lips. Then, he sighed. “Yeah, sorry, but I really don’t know what this is.”

“That’s my bar!” Andy exclaimed, not bothered by the fact that Dylan wasn’t, well, he wasn’tgetting any of it. 

A bar? Since when Andy – his Andy – had _a bar_?

Andy walked the little distance that separated him from his fresh husband, and grabbed Dylan for the shoulders. “What you did, the choice you made _for me_ … it… it inspired me, honey.” 

Dylan looked around, trying to not feel any kind of panic at all. Andy was just having a mid-life crisis. An early one, of course, but, still. 

“Oh, well, I’m very happy for you, but… when will you find the time to manage this place, with your work at the office?”

“And that’s the good news!” Andy pointed his finger at Dylan, as happy as one could be. “I left my work!”

_ Oh dear lord…  _ Dylan though. He couldn’t have done this. Andy l _oved_ his job. He was… he was _great_ at it! “Andy, please, tell me you didn’t leave your job to open _a bar_.” 

Andy lifted an eyebrow. “Why? You… you left your work too.” 

Dylan sighed, and rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what to say. How to behave. Andy wasn’t behaving like himself, but like a petulant child. “Andy, I left my job because you asked me to – and anyway, my job required that I risked my life at least twice a week. You work in monetary law! You’ve never even entered in a court of law!”

Andy crossed his arms, getting defensive. “So, what, you are the only one who gets the chance to… to reinvent yourself?”

Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I meant.”

Andy sighed, shaking his head. “I know. I just meant that… I wanted something different.And… you make me happy, but when I’m in that office, I’m not. I hate the kind of person that I become there. Who I liked, though, was the guy smiling cheerful when he served drinks at his uncle’s bar back in college.” He smiled, seeing how Dylan was sighing. He had win the battle, he knew it. Dylan now agreed with him: his husband’s happiness was what mattered the most. “Besides, if things go wrong, I can always ask my hot writer husband to support me!”

Dylan laughed, and when he was kissing Andy, the smile was still on his lips, as fresh as a spring rain. 


	2. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, Professor Psychopath, do I or don’t I have something in my teeth?”

“Do I have something in my teeth?” Lizzie’s sudden question awoke Dylan from his thoughts. He guessed he was a bit tired – he hadn’t slept a lot with their new case, he hadn’t eaten well and it was late. 

Still, none of those had been the reason he had been so caught up in his own mind Lizzie had to repeat her question twice, when she had notices Dylan staring at her with what she guessed was his version of a grin. 

“So, Professor Psychopath, do I or don’t I have something in my teeth?” She asked, teasing him a little bit. 

“No. that’s not what I was thinking about.” Dylan leaned back in his chair, crossed his hands over his abdomen and stared at the ceiling. “I was thinking how you reacted when I introduced Andy as my husband.”

Lizzie smiled a little, sighing. She guessed she could see where he was coming – especially after having met his father, a man who wanted his son to be his perfect copy.

“Do you sleep with married people? Underage? Do you have kinks that could get someone else killed?”Lizzie shrugged, going through her documents like it was nothing. “Unless it’s illegal – I don’t care what you do. I mean, it’s not who you sleep with at night that makes good at solving cases!”

Dylan chuckled, and without adding anything to the conversation, he came back to study the case-file. 

After all, what else he could say? She had told everything – more than enough. 

And it was just perfect. 


	3. Dresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan Reinhart was a man of style; he liked his clothes, liked picking them up personally, and he loved even more visiting a good tailor.   
> Still, it applied only when he actually did it for himself.

Dylan Reinhart was a man of style; he liked his clothes, liked picking them up personally, and he loved even more visiting a good tailor. 

Still, it applied only when he actually did it for himself. 

Because, apparently, _he hated_ bridal boutiques, and waiting on what only looked like a comfortable chair for hours for his partner to emerge from the dressing room every fifteen minutes with a dress that was either horrible in general or horrible _on her_. 

“Are you getting bored?” Lizzie accused him as she noticed him huffing. She was looking at her reflection in the mirror, and she didn’t like what she was seeing. Again. 

Dylan sighed. Now, what he was supposed to do? He could either lie to Lizzie – no, I’m not bored, I’m just havingtroubles with my book/the school/ my husband – or he could be honest and ask her why Jasmine wasn’t there with her to begin with.

On any other given day he would have been honest. It was the kind of man he was, after all. But Lizzie was what was usually referenced as a “bridezilla”, which meant that he was navigating difficult waters. 

Besides, Lizzie and Jasmine still weren’t on best terms. It could have been more than a year, Lizzie could have finally found a decent man, but it still didn’t change the fact that Jasmine hadn’t gone to Lizzie when she needed help with her wedding, but a multiple divorcee she was just of surname basis with. 

Lizzie knew why Jasmine had done it. But, still, it hurt.And Dylan liked her too much – appreciated her friendship and the way she had become like a little sister to him, like a part of the family – to even think about unsetting her so close to Lizzie’s special day. 

He smiled, and walked to his good friend, and staying at her back, he patted her back as their eyes met in the mirror.

“I think, my dear,that we may have a winner!”


	4. Monkey Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don’t think I would have liked you. Cops are genetically engineered to hate lawyers. Especially the good ones." Andy and Lizzie talk about his previous occupation after he saver her - and her savings.

As they left the office of the lawyer that had just tried to clean Lizzie of all of her savings (and some more), the blonde detective kept stealing glances to Andy. He had been very good – better than what she had thought possible. 

Of course she had guessed Andy couldn’t be that bad as lawyer – she doubted Dylan would have chosen an idiot as his life partner – but, she guessed her expectations were pretty low, what with the whole bar thing…

But, Andy seemed pretty oblivious to her musings. If nothing else, he seemed more interested in rubbing, rather neurotically, his chin, his hands definitely sweaty. 

“I hope you didn’t got too scared…” She said, her sentence sounding more like a question than anaffirmation. In answer, Andy just laughed. 

“Nah, it wasn’t cold feet, or because I suddenly forgot how to be a lawyer. What you saw there? That, honey, was just nothing. I mean, I was _the king_ , for real – ask Dylan.You should have meet me a few years back. No one could keep my clients out of a courthouse like I did.”

Lizzie chuckled, hands in her pockets, looking right before her. “Nah. I don’t thinkI would have liked you. I mean, I’m a cop, and cops are, like, genetically engineered to _hate_ lawyers. _Especially_ the good ones.” She paused, then turned to look at Andy, as curious as she could be, the cop instincts taking over. “So, don’t tell meyou were scared they would have checked with your old firm just to discover you had stolen your cards…”

Andy blushed – a rarity, Lizzie had come to learn – and stood in silence, not daring to meet the cop’s eyes.When they came to a sudden stop at a red light, the bartender/lawyer looked around, as to make sure no one he knew was there, and then, taking a huge breath, he confessed to his new friend. 

“I think I’m gonna burn these clothes, because I feel like a monkey in them. Also, I’ll have to ask my barber if he knows something to make my beard grow back quickly, because ever since I left my old job, I stopped shaving and I feel like I’m naked.”

Lizzie patted him amicably on the shoulder – just like she was one of the guys. Then, she laughed – a beautiful sound that not many people were hearing those days. “Well, when you find this miraculous product, put it on my tab. You saved me thousands of dollars, that’s the least I can do.”


	5. Dessert (or: the third wheel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan's been monopolizing Lizzie's free time, and she knows the real reason she hasn't been able to get five minutes for herself in over two weeks.

“Guys, I know that Andy can make a really killer dessert, but I swear, I’m stuffed, so, I think I’ll pass today?” Lizzie was starting to feel uneasy, to say the least. The problem wasn’t the company – she absolutely _adored_ being around Dylan and Andy – but she had a life of her own. Or at least, she was _trying_ to, and spending all her free evenings with Ryan and his husband wasn’t helping with her “find a decent man and move on, maybe have a bunch of kids” plan. 

Besides, she was a very good, talented and seasoned detective, and even a rookie would have seen that Andy was starting to have enough of this. Sharing Dylan with her when it was about work, or the occasional breakfast/brunch/lunch/dinner once a week was one thing, but her partner had been monopolizing he free time lately, so much so that she hadn’t been able to spend one evening on her own in two weeks. 

“Okay guys, you know what? I think I should go.” She said, tentatively, not even able to convince herself. Lizzie tried to stand up, leave her seat at the table, but Dylan covered her hand with his bigger one, gently, and yet, she knew he wasn’t going to allow her to do as she pleased. 

“Nonsense, dear. Tomorrow’s your free day, so it’s not like you have to run. Besides, you haven’t had coffee yet, and we’ve got this new espresso machine – a gift from my Godmother in Italy. You absolutely _have_ to try it!”

“Dylan, honey, she wants to leave. If Lizzie wants to go home, you let her go home.” Andy looked, stoic, arms crossed over his ample chest, at Lizzie, right into her eyes. The woman swallowed, and translated her friend’s expression in something akin to _You better get your ass out of here this very minute, woman, or else…_

“Andy, Lizzie _wants_ her coffee.” Dylan answered, his lips in a thigh line, as he left the table to go and get the coffee maker ready, without meeting Andy’s eyes. 

Back at the table, all Lizzie could do was sighing, her head hurting like crazy – she wasn’t drunk, not even close, and yet she felt like her hangover was having an hangover. Also, what was even worse? She was getting a serious case of Déjà vu – it was just like when she was a kid, and her parents would be mad at each other and decided to put their kids in the middle of it all (especially at dinner).

Andy lowered his head and massaged his temples, groaning, making Lizzie feel guilty. “I’m so sorry…” she said, but he just shook his head, and joined her at the table. 

“No, you didn’t do anything, Lizzie. It’s just that…” he sighed heavily, again, and started playing absent-mildly with his wedding band.“Dylan hasn’t been the same since he got hurt. And, I don’t know. I think, something changed, and he doesn’t want me any longer.”

Lizzie chuckled, and stole a glance at her partner – Dylan was still in the kitchen, and he was trying to make the espresso machine work (apparently, he was one of those men who didn’t like to read a manual and thought that they could make everything work with just a look). That, or he was lost in his own thoughts. 

“Let me guess,” she whispered in Andy’s ear. “You haven’t been intimate since the injury, even if the doctor gave him the green light.” 

Andy didn’t answer; he simply blushed, giving Lizzie her answer- like she had mentioned, she was a very good, talented and seasoned cop. 

“Few years back, Charlie and I had been dating for a few months when I got injured, like, _badly_. Up until that point, we had been pretty hot and bothered, you know? Young love, a work with an high dose of adrenaline, we could barely keep our hands to each other when we were alone. But suddenly, every night we would have someone at our place – my parents, my sister, Jas… I even invited my neighbor a few times, and I _despised_ her.But I would keep them there until say, eleven, midnight, and then it would be late, or I would have been tired, Or would have gotten an headache.All because I didn’t want to show Charlie _a scar_.”

Andy looked at Dylan’s back, then at Lizzie and back again to Dylan. Open-mouthed, he was in disbelief. “But, c’mon, he used to work for, you know…” he moved his hands in the air, still uncomfortable to say at loud the sentence _he used to work for the CIA._ “I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t scars, because, trust me, he’s got plenty!” 

Lizzie just shrugged. She had guessed as much, but she also knew that nothing of that was supposed to make sense. Dylan was an odd duck, after all. 

“Oh my god, Jasmine is having a romantic crisis! I can’t believe she picked up a fight this huge a week before the wedding!” Lizzie said at loud, in a staged voice, pretending to be readinga text from her phone. “I really have to go! I’ll see you around guys!”

Without giving Dylan time to stop her, she quickly stood up, and even if she didn’t need anyone to show her out, Andy, perfect gentleman that he was, he still did it. 

“Thanks for the advice.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek as salute. “I don’t think I would have thought that Dylan was having issues because of a scar.” 

Lizzie groaned. “You know who we are actually talking about, right? That man’s ego…”Lizzie lifted a perfect blonde eyebrow and patted Andy on the shoulder. “Get ready to be on your own for still awhile, and then, for at least six months,don’t even think about turning the lights on when you have sex.”

“Yeah?” Andy smirked, and Lizzie smiled, cheerful, wondering if the whole situation couldn’t get any more absurd. 

Still, she reached her car with a quick step, and in a good mood.She wondered if she could call anyone she knew, see if one of the guys who had asked her out lately was still free – because she had the impression that Dylan was going to be a little bit busy for the next few evenings. 


End file.
